


A Repeat Performance - Part 3

by kaizoku



Series: A Repeat Performance [3]
Category: Firefly
Genre: Chromatic Character, Collection: Purimgifts Day 3, F/F, Female Character of Color, Femslash, First Time, POV Female Character, Post-Serenity, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-15
Updated: 2011-03-15
Packaged: 2017-10-17 00:05:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/170804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaizoku/pseuds/kaizoku
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They get all hot and bothered.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Repeat Performance - Part 3

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lea_hazel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lea_hazel/gifts).



She closes the distance anyway, presses her mouth to Saffron's neck and bites down, tasting skin and sweat, and Saffron moans like something dying and arches against her.

It's so hot, that unchoreographed reaction, and it spurs her on. The thought _what the hell am I doing_ slips back into the darkness -- she just wants to make Saffron make more of those noises. She trails kisses up the offered curve of throat and jaw; Saffron's sounds get louder when Zoe uses her teeth, and her whole body bucks when Zoe sucks a mark onto smooth skin. Saffron tries to move her arms and Zoe's hands tighten automatically, pressing her back into the floor. Saffron makes a high, needy sound.

"Oh yeah," Zoe says smugly, mouthing her earlobe. "I got your number." She's always liked taking the lead in this dance, finding out what makes her partner lose it completely. Never done it with a woman before, but it ain't like the idea never crossed her mind. She can appreciate the pretties even if she ain't bought yet. Zoe shifts her thigh between Saffron's legs and presses against the heat there.

"Fuck, don't stop," Saffron gasps. Zoe ignores the order, pulling back to look at her. Pupils blown wide, no sign of a smirk or a snide remark coming, which is more than gratifying. She shifts her grip on Saffron's wrists, pulling them above her head and pressing down on both with one hand to free her other.

"Can I kiss you?" Zoe asks, stroking Saffron's hair back and watching the girl struggle to find her words again. If it's an act, it's a damn good one. Saffron sure had them all hoodwinked that first time, but even then Zoe had a funny feeling, and she don't get that now.

Saffron swallows and closes her eyes, and when they open, there's a little of the coquettish minx in them.

"You mean, is it safe? Am I planning to kiss you _good night_ and then steal your ship?"

"Something like that," Zoe says, rubbing her thumb over Saffron's lips, teasing. "Can't pretend you don't got a history of that."

Saffron licks her thumb like Zoe hoped she would and then sucks it into her mouth, swirling her tongue around the nail and biting gently, and all the time watching Zoe's face to see her reaction. It's hot as hell, is what she thinks, she wants to do everything, kiss and touch and fuck, but there's too many clothes in the way and they're in the rutting cockpit.

"My bunk, now," she says and hauls them both up. They don’t get far down the corridor before Saffron shoves Zoe up against the wall and kisses the hell out of her.

* * *

The sex is blindingly good.

"Still don't like you," Zoe says after. After she's washed her hands, pulled on underwear and is looking for her britches. Something that might be hurt flickers over Saffron's features too quick to identify, like those Fruity Oaty Bar animations that make River go nuts. Subliminal messaging? Zoe wonders idly. She don't really give a damn what game Saffron thinks she's running. She ignores the thought that she's letting herself be chased out of her own bed. She's not a coward, but pillow talk is bound to be awkward here.

"Well, I don't like you either," Saffron replies, tossing her red mane, the sheet sliding down as she moves, baring pale-pink nipples. Her body is a lazy sprawl in Zoe's bunk, skin luminous in the orange light of the LEDs. She tracks Zoe's movements as she leans over to lace her boots, then the automatic motions of buckling her holster, checking that everything's in place, safety on. Zoe purposely extends the time before she grabs a shirt, so's she can catch Saffron looking.

"Got things to do," Zoe says over her shoulder, finishing. "But take your time."

She feels loose, too good to worry. A pleasant low hum of satisfaction running through her veins. And a little smug -- she made that girl come so hard she almost passed out. Zoe's always been good with her hands.

In all honesty, she wouldn’t be opposed to a repeat performance.

* * *

 _Postscript_

In much the same way Zoe didn't look for a husband, she didn't look for a wife.

'Specially not one liable to bring as much trouble as this one. And it weren't drink nor country customs as in Mal's case - just the old-fashioned, messy one step forward, two steps back dance. Like one of them waltzes they got on the Core, only they do most of their waltzin' in bed.

They get shy, the first moment they're alone together, but soon they're stripping off clothes, greedy for skin. Zoe's new ring glints and she smiles. It don't match the other one she never took off, but they fit together. She can count her blessings on one finger.

She catches a wandering hand and kisses the ring she put there today and the strong, nimble fingers. Wicked fingers, as wise with her parts as they are with a gun or a lockpick. They press her into the sheets, map her body with a proprietary wonder that makes something twist in her chest. Zoe shifts closer, needing, and they turn against each other like planets aligning. Saffron slides her hand home inside her and she tumbles into the black, swollen, open, safe.

Somewhere, dropped by the pools of color on the floor - the red dress and the white - is a leaf of paper defining a legal relationship between two legal names and a set of two inked thumbprints. Such is the tradition on worlds where folk ain't often able to write their letters. Zoe ain't much of a romantic, but it still makes her grin to think she's got herself hitched to another person whose "real" name sounds like a cleaning implement.

"Are you happy now?" asks her new bride.

"Perfectly," she says without hesitation.


End file.
